


Broken

by deathmarkedlove_archivist



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-29
Updated: 2007-01-29
Packaged: 2018-11-22 23:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathmarkedlove_archivist/pseuds/deathmarkedlove_archivist
Summary: What happens after Beneath You ended?





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Hils, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Death-Marked Love](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Death-Marked_Love). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Death-Marked Love collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/deathmarkedlove/profile).

Dawn looked up from the notebook she was diligently working on her math homework in when she heard the pounding on the front door. She detoured into the living room to retrieve a short sword from the weapons chest before approaching the door. The knocking had not ceased; in fact, it had increased in both tempo and volume. No, the teen thought, raising the sword defensively as she approached the door, it doesn’t sound like knocking, more like someone’s kicking the door.

“Dawn!” she heard Buffy’s voice shout from the other side of the door. “Open up!”

Dawn’s sword hand dropped to her side and she pulled the door open. Before her stood Buffy, all her weight on one leg, the other already moving to kick the door again. In her arms Dawn saw the reason for the Slayer’s chosen method for entreating entry.

Anger, fear, and horror warred for dominance on the dark-haired teen’s face as she took in Buffy’s tear stained cheeks and the unconscious, badly burned, half-naked vampire in her sister’s arms. Anger won out.

“What did he do?” she demanded shortly, not moving from the doorway.

“He hugged a giant cross,” Buffy replied. She tried to keep her tone carefully neutral, but Dawn could hear exhaustion creep into her voice when the Slayer spoke next. “Can we come in?”

Dawn shook her head in frustration and stepped aside, holding the door open. As Buffy crossed the threshold and headed for the couch in the living room, the teen spoke.

“So, what did he do that you threw him into a giant cross? And where were you anyway? A church?”

“Yeah,” the blonde admitted, as she laid the unconscious vampire on the couch. “And I didn’t throw him into it. He did it…” Her voice trailed off and she looked up and made eye contact with her sister. A humorless smile flitted across Buffy’s face and her gaze returned to her ex-lover before she continued, her voice heavy with irony. “Of his own free will.”

The blond woman started to head for the kitchen, before remembering that the first aid kit was likely still in the living room from earlier in the evening. She picked it up, and sat down on the coffee table, sadly gazing at Spike, while the first aid kit lay unopened in her lap.

Dawn noticed the odd tone in her sister’s voice, but was unsure what to make of it. She approached the pair slowly and when she spoke, her voice was softer than before.

“What happened?” she asked gently.

Buffy looked up at her sister, fresh tears threatening to spill and retrace the path earlier ones had worn on the Slayer’s cheeks. She held Dawn’s gaze for an indeterminable amount of time before answering in a small, quiet voice.

“He’s broken.”

The ringing of the telephone interrupted the scene before Dawn could ask what Buffy meant. Buffy returned her attention to Spike, and Dawn wondered if she even heard the phone. The teen turned and walked into the kitchen, retrieving the cordless receiver. As she talked, she walked back to the entryway of the living room.

“Buffy,” Dawn said, holding the phone’s receiver to her shoulder to muffle the sound while she spoke to her sister. “It’s Xander. He’s at the hospital with Nancy. He says the guy they took in is going to be okay.”

Dawn paused, giving Buffy a chance to explain. The Slayer simply nodded, acknowledging Xander’s message. Dawn continued, “He wants to know if you need your phone and coat back tonight or if tomorrow’s soon enough.”

“Tomorrow’s fine,” Buffy replied. She shook herself, as if to dismiss the melancholy spirit hanging over her and opened the first aid kit to doctor Spike’s burns.

Getting no other response, Dawn spoke into the phone again. “Xander? She said tomorrow’s—”

“Wait,” Buffy interrupted her. “Did you say he’s at the hospital?”

When Dawn nodded affirmatively, Buffy took a deep breath, steeling herself.

“Ask him to steal a couple packets of blood and bring them over tonight.”

Both of Dawn’s eyebrows shot up and she too took a deep breath before repeating Buffy’s request. The teen also held the phone away from her ear as soon as the words were out of her mouth, anticipating Xander’s explosive reaction.

Sure enough, clear across the room, Buffy could hear Xander’s “WHAT?”

Dawn walked across the room and handed the phone to her sister, unable to decide if she wanted to support the decision her sister’s request implied or not. Once Buffy took the phone, Dawn only heard her side of the conversation, but knowing Xander, she could imagine what was being said.

“Yes, Xander,” Buffy said, her tone indicating that she was quickly losing patience with her friend. “I know, Xander. I was there. You keep saying that like I have no idea what happened…Because he’s different…Stop it! Look, I’ll explain when you get here. Just get the damn blood!”

As soon as she said the last word, Buffy viciously punched the Talk button, terminating the conversation and slamming the phone down on the coffee table next to her. Then, she angrily began pulling supplies out of the kit, searching for the burn cream.

“So…” Dawn ventured in the silence following the phone conversation.

“I don’t want you to be alone with him, Dawn,” Buffy said.

“He’s dangerous, yet he’s lying on our couch?” The sarcasm in Dawn’s voice made Buffy wince, knowing it was only a preview of what she would face when Xander arrived.

“He’s not,” Buffy paused, gathering her thoughts, “dangerous. At least I don’t think so. But he’s not…he’s not well, Dawn.”

“I gathered as much from the third degree burns.”

“That’s not what I mean,” the Slayer replied tiredly. “I’ll explain everything when Xander gets here, but he’s…kind of crazy.”

“Crazy?” Dawn responded acidly. “Crazy in a stalkery kind of way, or crazy in an attempted rape kind of way? Or maybe it’s both today.”

“Dawn…” Buffy trailed off sadly, Spike’s face as he babbled about sparks and being loved flashing to mind, followed by the haunting image of him draped over the cross, smoke billowing up in a ghastly parody of holy incense escaping the censer a priest swings during mass. And I just stood there and let him burn until his legs gave out.

The petite blonde shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the images of Spike desperately trying to figure out what actions would gain her approval. She swallowed hard and turned her attention back to her sister.

“Crazy in a self-mutilation kind of way,” she finally answered.

The sisters sat in silence for several minutes while Buffy applied medicine to Spike’s burns.

Suddenly, the front door swung open and Xander stormed in, slamming the door behind him. His eyes immediately zeroed in on the vampire lying on the couch and turned to ice.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded. “Why is he half-naked?”

“Did you get the blood?” Buffy asked calmly, ignoring her friend’s question.

In response, Xander tossed Buffy’s balled up coat to the Slayer. She caught it and found that it was wrapped around two packets of blood. She sighed. It would do for now, and, to be honest, she would only have been mildly surprised had Xander not honored her request.

“Thank you.”

“Buffy,” he began again, more calmly than before. “What’s going on? Nancy told me Spike was acting really weird and then he just took off.” Taking a closer look at the vampire’s burns, he asked, “What happened to him?”

“He decided to take up a new hobby.” The sarcasm in Dawn’s voice was thick. “Crucifix Hugging. I hear it’s being added to next year’s Demon Olympics.” Her tone became more serious as she remembered Buffy’s words from earlier and turned towards her sister. “What were you doing in a church anyway?”

“Penance, I think,” the Slayer responded. Seeing Dawn and Xander’s confused faces, she continued. “He’s different. He’s changed.”

“Of course he has,” Xander spit out venomously. “Because the demons we know never try to hurt us!”

“Clem’s a good guy,” Dawn piped up. “He’s harmless.”

“Angel changed,” Buffy added, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Xander snorted in derision. “Angel. Right. Because he didn’t stalk you for months, or kidnap and torture Giles, or kill Miss Calendar.”

“That wasn’t Angel,” Buffy countered.

“Fine.” Xander threw his hands up in the air, not wanting to dredge up the old arguments about Angel. “But, Buffy, there’s a big difference here. It’s called a soul. Spike’s not Angel, and I think it’s time you realized that.”

“Don’t.” Buffy’s voice turned to ice as she glared at her friend. “It was never about that. I’m not saying it was good or right, but it was never some desperate attempt to recapture Angel.” Her tone softened as she continued, “And, there’s not that much of a difference anymore.”

The silence following her statement was thick as Xander tired to decide on another line of argument and Buffy waited to see if either he or Dawn had picked up on her last statement. The younger Summers mulled the earlier conversation over in her head before arriving at the correct conclusion.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, almost unable to believe the deduction she’d reached.

“Yeah,” Buffy said softly, looking at her sister.

“What?” Xander demanded, seeing the look of understanding pass between the sisters.

“There’s not that much of a difference,” Dawn repeated slowly, instinctively knowing Xander was more likely to believe the conclusion if he arrived at it himself. Seeing the confusion still present on Xander’s face, she prompted him further. “Between him and Angel.”

Xander’s eyes grew impossibly wide as the pieces fell into place for him. His gaze quickly swiveled from the younger to elder Summers as he chocked out, “He got a soul?”

At Buffy’s affirming nod, Xander began to laugh hysterically.

After nearly a minute had passed, he appeared to calm down again, although when he spoke, his voice had a manic quality.

“So that’s it then, huh?” he said. “Spike gets a soul and all is forgiven. Forget that he’s killed and tortured, what, hundreds of thousands of people. Forget that he tried to kill us repeatedly. Forget that he tired to rape you!”

“Forget that he slept with Anya?” Buffy asked quietly, cutting off Xander’s rant. “I get that you don’t like him. You don’t have to like him. But that wasn’t evil. It wasn’t…Christmas and puppy dogs, but it wasn’t evil. You have to let that one go. And, I’m not saying a soul equals automatic membership in the White hats club. Look at Warren. Look at…”

“But, Buffy,” Xander cut her off before Buffy could name his best friend alongside the man who had pushed her over the edge last spring. “The things he said tonight at the Bronze weren’t nice. He didn’t sound sorry.”

“It was an act,” she replied. “You didn’t see him. In that church, desperately trying to get my approval. Mine and God’s.”

“Is that why he hugged that cross?” Dawn asked timidly, slightly afraid of placing herself in the middle of Xander and Buffy’s argument, but also hopping to diffuse some of the tension in the room.

“I think so,” the Slayer nodded as she responded before turning back to Xander. “Look, the bottom line is, he’s broken. Someone has to help him, and that’s what we do. He’s confused, and hurting, and just a little bit crazy.”

“Crazy, huh?” Xander replied. “Maybe we should just call Dru up and drop him off on her doorstep. Sounds like they’d get along real well now.”

“Right,” Buffy replied softly, the image Xander had invoked in her mind taunting her. I told him I couldn’t love him without a soul, so he went and got one. And now he’s crazy. Like Dru. I drove him crazy just like…

“Oh, God,” she whispered, horrified as the impetus of Drusilla’s insanity mocked her from the depths of her psyche. What her mind instinctively knew, but refused to verbalize, was the name opposite hers in this terrible analogy.

“I broke him.”


End file.
